


Hearts and Gardens

by GeekyTeaLover



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Snark, rose gardens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 22:36:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9628304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekyTeaLover/pseuds/GeekyTeaLover
Summary: Arthur Kirkland was at a dinner party, and was more bored than he had ever been in his long, long life.





	

Arthur Kirkland was at a dinner party, and was more bored than he had ever been in his long, long life. His boss had long ago disappeared into the crowd leaving behind instructions that he should 'socialise' as much as possible. Since Arthur could think of no worse way to spend an evening than socialising with politicians, this idea did not exactly fill him with enthusiasm. Thankfully he had spotted Francis, and the two had been hiding in a corner making snide remarks about the other people at the party ever since.  
"Merde," said Francis, pointing out one particular man, "that jacket makes him look like he fell in a puddle of oil on the way here." Arthur nodded.  
"Look at this bloke," he said, pointing. "I don't know much about fashion, but I know you shouldn't wear a brown tie with that ensemble."

Suddenly, Arthur frowned.  
"Oh dear god, I think Ivan's boss is coming over here."  
"Vite!" said Francis, chuckling, and they slipped through the crowd towards the open patio doors. Arthur absent-mindedly put a hand on Francis's elbow to steer him through the crowd, but when they reached the doors he realised and let go, flushing pale pink. Francis didn't seem to notice. The frenchman picked up two glasses of whatever alcohol they were serving from a passing butler, handing one to Arthur before taking a sip of his own and pulling a disgusted expression.  
"What is this horse piss?" he whispered to Arthur, who sniffed his own drink suspiciously and then took a gulp. He shuddered at the taste, then poured the rest of it on the grass outside. 

For a moment they stood looking out if the open glass doors at the garden beyond, which looked dark and mysterious in the low light. Arthur turned to Francis.  
"What say you we bugger off and go and look at the gardens? They're not going to miss us here for a while."  
"Mon ami," said Francis, putting his empty glass down on a table, "that's the best suggestion I've heard all night."

They stepped out onto the dew-speckled grass, and in a few minutes the faint buzz of chatter had been left behind them. Arthur sighed, relieved to be away from all the people and noise, and glad to be out in the cool darkness of the garden. After walking in silence for a short while, Arthur turned to Francis.  
"They've got a rose garden here, you know." he said. "It's supposed to be very beautiful. "  
"Oui? We must visit it!" replied Francis, smiling.  
Arthur hid a smile at Francis' enthusiastic response.  
"Through here, I think." he said, leading the other man through a gap in the hedge.

They walked out and found themselves at the gate into the rose garden, and they both paused for a moment, struck by the strange beauty of it all. The low light had transformed the sandy paths into rivers of moonlight, and the roses themselves gently swayed in the breeze that blew waves of their heady scent towards Francis and Arthur.

 

Arthur stepped forward to push open the silver gate, and wrinkled his nose at the excessively curly design. Francis followed him silently as they entered the garden and started down one of the paths.  
"The rose garden here is excellent. Maybe even good enough to rival yours." Arthur said, turning to Francis with a smirk.  
"How dare you! My rose garden is the best in Europe!" replied Francis indignantly, turning to face Arthur. Then he paused. "But... surely you have seen my garden yourself?"  
"Not for a few years." remarked Arthur casually. "All I remember is that it was very pretentious, even for you."  
"Well, you must see it again." said Francis firmly, choosing to ignore the insult.  
Arthur rolled his eyes. "If you insist." He spoke the words scathingly, but was secretly glad of the invitation. Arthur remembered Francis' rose garden as being very beautiful, though Arthur would never admit that he thought that.

For a few minutes they walked in silence, making their way towards the centre of the garden. Francis looked over the rows of faintly lit flowers, and then back to Arthur. The other man turned to face him, and Francis lost his train of thought as their eyes met.

Arthur looked unearthly in the low light. His eyes almost glowed (as if he were some kind of mythical being), and the faint breeze caused his hair to dance slightly back and forth. But most of all Francis' eyes were drawn to Arthur's mouth, because the other man was smiling. Not smirking. Not frowning.

Just... smiling.

Arthur smiled rarely, even more rarely in the company of Francis, so this expression caused a warm glow of emotion in Francis' chest. He felt a smile tug at the corners of his own mouth, but Arthur had already turned his face away to survey the roses once more. 

"I've always liked white roses," Arthur said after a pause, gesturing at a bed of such flowers. "They look... refined. Graceful, somehow."  
"I've always thought they looked cold," replied Francis. "I prefer red roses myself." He flashed Arthur a smile and shifted subtly closer. Arthur snorted in derision.  
"Red roses? Far too showy and overused as a romantic symbol for my taste." Arthur replied, shooting Francis a smirk and continuing down the path. Francis bristled with indignation and hurried to the other man's side.  
"Red roses are not showy." he insisted, waving his hands dramatically. "They are loud, unashamed, and the fact that they represent amour is a good thing! But I see why you prefer white roses- you like to be secretive, non? And you are not fond of romantic things at all." He smirked at Arthur, and now it was the Englishman's turn to get annoyed.  
"That's not true! In the past it was white roses that were considered the most romantic, but red ones came into fashion and stole their thunder." Arthur replied hotly.

They had now reached the centre of the garden: a little area filled with pale pink roses and surrounded by another curly fence.  
In the middle of the roses was a silver bench, curved on either side in the style of a love seat. Both men were struck once again by the peacefulness of the garden, and briefly ceased in their bickering. Francis silently opened the gate and led the way towards the bench. The paths were narrower here, and the roses crowded over the sides of the flower beds, brushing against Arthur's sides as he followed Francis through the sea of blossoms. They reached the end of the path and sat down side by side. The rose garden had been arranged in a spiral around a small hill, the bench where they sat being the highest point, and this meant that they had an uninterrupted view of the whole garden.  
"I wonder if they have noticed that we are gone from the party yet?" mused Francis. Arthur shrugged. It was then, looking out across the roses filling the air with scent, that Francis realised how romantic this all was. He turned with a grin to tell Arthur this, but unexpectedly found the other man's face mere centimetres from his own.

Night had fallen properly now, and Arthur suddenly couldn't focus on anything but how lovely Francis looked in the moonlight. He realised that their faces were nearly touching, and he opened his mouth slightly to say something sarcastic but couldn't quite get the words out. His mind had gone mysteriously blank, he could feel the other man's breath on his cheek and Francis was too close and not close enough.

Not nearly close enough.

So he leaned forwards those extra few centimetres, closing the gap between them and pressing a gentle kiss to the other man's lips. Francis responded, gently, and Arthur wished that he hadn't thrown his drink away because being drunk would have given him an excuse for this. But he was completely sober, and therefore able to appreciate how very soft Francis' lips were against his own, and how sweet the smell of roses all around them was.  
After a few moments he pulled back, lips parting again as his mind raced to find an explanation, but Francis put a gentle hand on the side of his neck and guided him into another kiss before he could say a word. This one was just as sweet, and he reached up a hand to tangle gently in Francis' soft, wavy hair, shifting a little closer and feeling an answering movement from the other man. 

The blissful feeling lasted a few moments longer before Arthur heard a faint sound and broke away. He sighed as he recognised the distant voice of his secretary, probably sent by his boss to find out where Arthur had run off too. He stood up, looking across the gardens and seeing the distant but familiar figure of his secretary down on the lawn.  
"My boss has noticed that I've gone." he sighed, not looking at Francis. "I had better go and get my lecture over with." He started as if to make for the gate, but he froze at the feeling of slim fingers wrapping around his wrist.  
"I'll send you an invitation to come and visit my rose garden," Francis said softly, "after seeing this one, I am eager to know what you make of my own." Arthur thought he heard the hidden meaning in these words and was suddenly glad that the darkness of the garden would hide his blush.

"I'll... look forward to it." he replied in as normal a voice as he could manage before pulling his hand out of Francis' hold and leaving the moonlit garden through the gate. 

Francis watched him start along the path before looking over his shoulder one last time. Francis smiled at Arthur, who hurriedly turned back, continuing to make his way back down the sandy path. Francis smiled, resting his chin in his palm. He would eagerly await their next walk in the rose gardens.

**Author's Note:**

> This is very cliche and unimaginative I'm so rry


End file.
